


Here's to You, Mister Bergstrom

by PineapplePrincess



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Chance Meetings, College, Future Fic, Gen, Humor, Mentors, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineapplePrincess/pseuds/PineapplePrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>You have to work twice as hard for substitutes.  Everyone knows that!</i>  </p><p>Lisa's first day in college both inspires and embaresses her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here's to You, Mister Bergstrom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaialux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/gifts).



> Hope you like your gift!

She’s late.

 

This only happens in her nightmares. But then again in her nightmares she’s also completely il-prepared to accept her award in thermonuclear science. Today she’s simply late for her first class in her first semester at Harvard Law, which hopefully won’t result in her being thrown onto a garbage scow to fend for her life as happens in her nightmares.

 

She’s blushing and breathless as she rushes into the classroom…to confront a class that hadn’t started yet. In fact, the other students were milling around aimlessly, poking at each other’s Mapple IPods and blaring the latest tunes.

Utterly out of place, she presses her books to her chest and rushes to the nearest empty chair. “Excuse me,” Lisa said, turning toward the nearest girl to her, “is this philosophy 101?” 

The girl in question tugs down one of her ear buds. “Huh?”

Lisa shrinks a bit more. “I asked if this was philosophy 101,” she repeats. 

“Oh yeah, it totes is. Like, crash out if you need to, the prof’s usually muey late.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Just sit down, man, it’ll all be over soon.” Lisa doesn’t do that, can’t do that – her knees rebel and absolutely refuse to move the rest of her body, pinioning her in place. The student eyeballs her and pauses her Mypod. “Hey, where are you from?” Lisa takes a deep breath and says Springfield. “Oh Springfield! I haven’t been there since I was a kid. Is it true they’re, like, totally still afraid of the metric system?”

Lisa’s spine stiffens with anger. “They’ve been using the metric system for the past five years. If things keep going this way we might even recognize algebra as a valid form of mathematical equation!” Lisa seizes on another topic to avoid venting a purely Homerian sense of hometown pride and anger on the girl. She had struggled so hard to get away from Springfield; now she wants nothing more than to defend it. Wasn’t it odd how life worked? “I’m sorry I’m late. Or I think I’m late,” she says, sitting down. “You can never tell, time’s so different at Harvard. Heh – timezones are magic, right? Huh?” _Stop babbling!_ she begs herself, but can’t seem to still her tongue.

The girl stares at her evenly. “Yeah, no, you’re fine. Mr. B runs a cool ship, I’m sure he doesn’t care if you’re late.”

Lisa feels panic seize her by the throat. “Mr. B?” she squawks. “I thought the course is supposed to be taught by Ms. Crandall?”

“Duhhh! Just like, chillax and sit back. I had him for calc last year, he’s awesome – he can teach almost anything and make you feel like you’re the only person in the room.”

“But what about Ms. Crandall?”

“Oh, she’s out for the next couple of months. Didn’t you get the holo-email?”

“It must have missed me?” Lisa guesses, sweating visibly.

“Okay,” Lisa says, taking the nearest seat to avoid making things even more awkward. She carefully arranges her belongings and prepares for the class. 

“Duh,” says the girl nearest her, snapping her gum lazily. “Just relax. Tammy told Julie who told me that our prof is totally in labor as of last night. We’re just gonna have a sub, for awhile it’s no big.”

“Huh. I had a teacher like that in second grade. But it couldn’t possibly be…”

The door bursts open. “Hello, ladies, gents and androids!” he cheerfully calls, “please crack your notebooks open – we’ve got a lot of ground to cover!”

Lisa instantly gasped and clutches her chest. “Uh,” the girl says, “are you having a heart attack?”

“I can’t chillax!” Lisa blurts. “That’s MY Mr. Bergstrom!”

That’s when he notices her in the crowd. And, just as he had when she was seven years old, he gives her a warm smile, then turns back toward the chalkboard and starts educating the world.

%$$$

The class ends up just as entertained by his antics as Lisa had been as a child. The magic that follows the man around from post to post.

After the class ends, she approaches him quietly – it’s quite a line to get to him – she’s not surprised at all. “Mister Bergstrom,” she says, “I don’t think you remember me, but my name is…”

“Little Lisa Simpson!” Mister Bergstrom says with dramatic flourish, taking both of her hands in his. “You have to tell me everything, simply everything about your life. HARVARD, you made it to Harvard, I’m so proud!”

“I know,” Lisa giggles. “I’m SO SMART!” she coughed. “I mean, everything is just fine.”

“How’s your family? Did the situation with your father improve at all?”

“It’s…never going to be perfect. But my father’s all right, and he and my mom are still together. He was promoted at work awhile ago, and my mother’s running an art class down at the Pins and Needles Craft Store.” 

“Finally, fulfillment in art for Marjorie Simpson! Send her my love! And how are Margaret and Bart?”

“Bart’s got a position with Down with Buildings. He’s probably going to end up the head of demolitions, knowing how much he loves to wreck immovable objects.” Lisa says. “And Maggie’s ten! I can hardly believe it.”

“And that’s almost as old as you were when I met you. My, it sounds like the Simpsons are finally making it.”

“We really are,” she admits. “What about you?”

“As you can see, I’m still in substitution,” he says dryly. “But I’m considering a permanent position down in New York. They’re looking for a second grade teacher. And as fond as I am of the college life I think my little routine works twice as well with small children.”

She gives him a fond smile. “I always wanted to thank you for your support; you have no idea how I clung to that little morsel of praise. I…” she reaches into her purse and pulled out a yellowed, mottled slip of paper, “I even kept this paper with me through every move we made and every change I survived.” 

He gapes at her, clearly flattered. “A teacher always hopes he’ll make an impression, but this!” He scribbles down his email. “Please feel free to write me whenever you need to talk.”

“Oh, I will!” Lisa promises. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says, reaching into the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a well-worn art smock. “There are a bunch of third graders in who need help gluing glitter and macaroni to construction paper!”

Part of Lisa wishes she were in that class. But the rest of her recognizes that that time of her life has passed; it’s time to embrace adulthood, to move forward and figure out what sort of woman she’ll become. She gets out of the way as he packs his suitcase and watches him rush out the nearest exit. 

Lisa is the last person out; it will be her job to switch off the light. But before she does, she salutes the empty room. “Here’s to you, Mister Bergstrom,” she says. And then she closes the door.


End file.
